Unexpected Turn of Events
by Never.Present.Mind
Summary: A night of spontaneous fun with a handsome stranger leads to a lifetime commitment. AU-of sorts. Eventual buckets of sherlolly. Rated for some curse words.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer - I do not own Sherlock, I am merely borrowing the characters.

AN/ I apologise for all spelling and grammar mistakes. Thank you's are at the bottom. Enjoy :)

* * *

Oh crap.  
Molly stared at the offending piece of equipment she held in her hands.  
Oh crap, crap, crap. She continued to mutter profanities under her breath.

Squatting not so gracefully on her toilet, Molly sat staring at the obnoxiously bright blue lines. They seemed to glare at her judgmentally. This was at least, what she had convinced herself. Certain that this test (and the three previous tests) must be incorrect, she decided that she must intervene with the result. Firstly, she came to the conclusion that her perfect 20/20 vision must, of course, be failing her, hence shutting her eyes and rubbing them with her free hand. This was unsuccessful. Next, she put her non-existent psycho-kinetic ability into play, by squinting at the stick in her hand, forcing it to change. This, unsurprisingly, was also unsuccessful. Finally, in a last act of desperation, she began to frantically wave the test from side to side, as though it would change its mind. Getting carried away, she loosened her grip mid shake, and sent it flying across her bathroom, seemingly hitting each surface. During this Molly (acting entirely on instinct) wrapped her arms over her face to shield her eyes, whilst her legs jumped up to join the rest of her body, ironically resembling the foetal position.

Once the banging had stopped, Molly straightened herself to see where the test had settled. Suddenly feeling foolish after her over dramatic display, Molly noticed the test lying in her bathtub, and with a new sense of motivation and a dash of dread, she began to move off the seat. Making her way across her bathroom, still squatting, Molly approached the test cautiously. She resembled a 'bomb squad officer' with her slow pace and steady movements, this was even more impressive considering her pyjama shorts and knickers, still remained around her ankles. Peering over the tub she saw that the two blue lines remained, judging her even more. Feeling the last bit of hope drain out of her, she lent against the nearest wall and slowly slid down until her backside came in contact with the cold tiles.

* * *

(Approximately six weeks earlier)

It was tradition that each time Molly would visit her grandmother, she would be quizzed about her love life before she was even inside. This month, Anne had gone with- "Have you found someone yet, or are you set on dying alone?" Anne really didn't like beating around the bush. "I will have you know that me and Brad Pitt are doing swimmingly well, in fact I'm expecting to meet him any day now." Molly replied in mock sincerity. "Molly-" Anne scorned "this is no joke. I would like to meet my great grandchildren before I die, and I'm no spring chicken." "Please! You'll outlive us all. It's going to take more than old age to send you to the pearly white gates." Molly said pushing her way inside. "The fiery pits of hell more like." Anne laughed, whilst Molly just ignored the comment as she took in her surroundings.

Having spent most of her childhood in this house most would assume it was home. It looked as every home should, pictures of family members varying in age, old trinkets on every surface, marks dotted around each with their own story. It was clearly loved. But all Molly saw was that the wallpaper was peeling off the walls, and had been for the past two years, the carpets had so many stains that you could barely see the original pattern, and the smell of old people (a combination of figs and death) was getting stronger and stronger each year. Molly childhood was not a bad one, far from it. She was raised with the right amount of love and affection which turned her into the woman she was today. Her childhood was however, unconventional. She was initially raised almost entirely by her father until his death when she was 12, she was then taken in by her grandmother, a woman that until that point she had never heard of before, and stayed in this house until the age of 18, leaving for university.

Molly and Anne had stuck to the same routine of tea and biscuits on the second Saturday, every month, for years, and today was no different. After catching up on the latest gossip and having a general chat, the attention was then turned onto Molly's love life once again.

"You know, Ms Stewart has a nephew whose coming into town." Molly groaned, knowing where the conversation was going. "He's single. Cute, if you can ignore the teeth." "Gran, I'm not looking to date anyone. I-" "I know, I know." Anne interrupted clearly frustrated. "You're not looking to date. You're building your career. You're still upset about the last boyfriend. I know, Molly. But, you've graduated now and 'Michael the plonker' was years ago." Molly tried to talk but was quickly shushed into submission. "All I'm saying, is that I don't want you to end up alone or settling for second best because you're too old to find someone better. You deserve better." "When did you get so wise ?" Molly joked in hope of breaking the serious tone. "It comes with age." Anne smiled. "You don't have to go and married this very second, there's still time for all that business. You should go out, have fun, do something crazy for your dear old gran." "You're such a meddling old woman." Anne laughed. "It's a superpower of mine."

It wasn't the first time she had heard that speech, and she guessed it wasn't going to be the last but for some reason that day she listened. Once back at hers, she began to make calls to see if anyone wanted to join her for a night out. It wasn't going to be crazy or reckless despite her gran's wishes, but she thought a nice outing wouldn't do any harm. She might even enjoy it.

* * *

(Later that night)

Molly sighed into her drink and mentally cursed her gran, and her own stupidity, for the fourth time that evening. She sat in a club that was far too young for her, listening to her closest friend (and only person she knew who was free on a Saturday night at a couple hours notice) Marie, moaning once again about her 'good for nothing, lying, cheating, bastard' of a boyfriend.

"-And e's like 'it's not fair you know, I have needs' and I just start screaming at 'I'm. I mean 'e told me she were 'is cousin and then I find them butt naked in my-" Marie's voice droned on and on. Her London accent becoming stronger as she became more, and more, intoxicated.

At least the music was so loud that only bits and pieces could be heard, otherwise Molly was fairly sure she would have pulled out her own teeth in sheer boredom. Whilst Marie was blathering on about nothing really, Molly began to reflect on how she had actually gotten to this place in her life.

She had no money, apparently medical schools aren't cheap and internships are poorly paid. She had one friend, who to be quite frank, she couldn't stand. She had no love life, and never had really. Her last, and only 'real' relationship was just over three years ago, and that was a total disaster. Years and years of working, studying and doing the right thing, the sensible thing, had left her with this. Nothing. God that was depressing.

Suddenly needing a drink, Molly stood and started to walk towards the bar without a word to Marie (although she doubted Marie had even noticed) and decided to get very, very, drunk. Molly joined the mass of people equally attempting to buy a drink and simply waited her turn enjoying the distraction of the many stupid conversations going on around her. Slowly shuffling towards the front as people were getting served, she unexpectedly found herself standing at the front leaning against the edge of the bar. Noticing a bar stool, she decided to sit, realising just how uncomfortable her shoes actually were, and ordered a rum and coke.

"That'll be £5.20" the plump barman informed her.

Just as Molly reached into her purse, an unknown voice yelled "it's on me". She faced to turn the kind gentleman, although she needn't have moved much as he was incredibly close (too close) to her. He was young, mid twenties and relatively good looking. Light brown hair and blue eyes with small freckles across his nose, only visible because of his proximity.

"I'm Daniel." He said smiling holding out his hand.

"I'm Molly." She returned, shaking his hand.

"It's nice to meet you." He slightly slurred, leaning even closer. She could now smell the alcohol on his breath.

"Yeah... Thanks for the drink." She raised her drink to him. Not knowing what to say next she began to rock her heels against the bottom of the chair. They remained in silence for quite a few moments. It was an exceptional amount of awkwardness.

"So... Wanna come back to mine for some sex?" He was a lot drunker than she first assumed. Either that, or he was socially inept.

Unsure how to respond to such a straight forward question Molly just looked down without saying anything hoping he would just leave. Although she thought it impossible, the amount of awkwardness had increased. As she was about to get up and run, she heard a snickering on her right hand side.

Finally having a distraction from Daniel and 'the awkwardness', she turned and faced the newcomer. He had dark hair and pale skin and it was clear that he was tall, despite the fact he was sitting down. He was facing her with a slight smirk on his face, and was holding a glass filled with what she assumed to be vodka.

"Oh, I'm sorry did I interrupt this beautiful display of modern day romance? Do continue, I'm rather enjoying this fumbling attempt at initiating a one night stand. Although I feel I should warn you-"he focused his attention solely on Molly"-you will be bitterly disappointed, as for what he has in looks and sparkling personality, he is rather lacking in other areas. Well that combined with the fact that his fiancé is currently ringing him as we speak, I'd advise you send him along."His smirk had grown throughout his speech until he was sporting a full on smile.

"What's that supposed to mean? And how d'ya know about Janine?" Daniels voice had gotten louder in anger and frustration.

Feeling the potential of a fight about to happen Molly turned back to Daniel and muttered a quick 'I think you should probably leave'. Surprisingly enough that was all it took for Daniel to go and continue his search for a mindless fling.

After watching him stumble off Molly turned and faced her saviour.

"Urmm... Thanks for the warning. What's your name?"

"Sherlock Homes. Your gratitude is completely unnecessary, I doubt you would have actually gone home with him due to your 'frigidness'. I merely sped up the process." Molly was taken back by the sudden insult.

"I'm not frigid! And what kind of a name is Sherlock?"

"So you would've gone home with him then? Oh, and my mother wanted to be original." He replied.

"She achieved that. As for Daniel, no I wouldn't have gone home with him b-"

"Exactly." He interrupted.

"-BUT that's because I have standards, thank you very much!" She yelled indignantly.

"What, standards that no one has met for the past two- no three years ?" He began chuckling.

"Wha-how...I" she stumbled in confusion.

"Face it, you're frigid. It's a combination of a bad relationship and abandonment issues from childhood, most likely stemming from your father."

"I don't have daddy issues!"

"I said abandonment issues, you really should improve on your listening skills." He began tutting and shaking his head, mocking her.

"You're such an arse! Has anyone ever told you that?"

"Multiple times actually. It's not my fault if I see more than everyone else. Like your abandonment issues for example ,or how you have built up frustration from the lack of sex over the past three years, or how you find me infuriating and equally incredibly attractive. It's a very useful skill, if I do say so myself."

"I don't think I've ever met such a pretentious arsehole." She laughed. "You're not denying any of it though."

Molly's eyes narrowed in anger and embarrassment. She didn't want to admit it, but damn he was sexy. With odd shaped eyes, pointy lips and ridiculously high cheekbones, he was not conventionally good looking by any means. But there was something about him that was undeniably sexy.

"Well as entertaining as this meeting has been, you should probably get back to your dear friend so you can a cab home, and snuggle in bed. If you leave in the next few minutes, maybe you can make it in time to catch the rerun of that TV show, the one you love so much. You can return to your boring life, and you will eventually forget the infuriatingly gorgeous man, that you could've spent the night with if you weren't so frigid." His tone was maddeningly patronising, daring her to do something.

"Unless, Molly-" his voice deepened on her name. "Would you like to accompany me back to mine?" He raised one eyebrow in question.

It might have been the music, deafening her and her judgement. Maybe it was the amount of alcohol she had consumed that night. Perhaps it was her meddling grandmother and her speech of impending doom. Although most likely it was because he was right, she _was_ frustrated, he _was_ attractive but mainly her life was boring and she wanted it to change, just for one night. Whatever the reason Molly found herself saying-

"Yes. I would very much like to accompany you, Sherlock Holmes."

* * *

"At least I remember who the dad is." Molly softly laughed at herself. Falling into quiet once again, Molly began to realise just how big this situation was.

Crap. 

* * *

AN/ So, that's the first chapter of 'unexpected'. I've had this story idea for the past year or so but it took me a long time to actually write it down! I'm excited to get the story going and the romance flowing :)  
A couple things to clarify : this is an AU where, Moriarty doesn't exist (I couldn't fit him in), Sherlock isn't as famous as he was in season 2 & Molly has only just graduated (making her 26). Other than all that, everything else is the same, kind of...

I would like to send a huge thank you to everyone who reviewed my last one shot:

**Rocking the Redhead/racveq/patemalah21/hervissa/Crimson and Chrome 42/ and a guest.**

You guys make me smile :D

If all goes to plan I should post chapter two next Friday.

Hopefully see you then.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer-I don't own Sherlock. Thank you's are at the bottom. Enjoy.

* * *

"221b Baker Street please." Molly politely instructed the driver.

To say the pregnancy had come as a bit of a shock to Molly would be a big understatement. Molly had always envisioned herself happily married, great career, and generally settled before having children, following all the traditions that her parents did not. Initially she was sad, miserable really, and scared, but after consuming tubs of ice cream and watching every Disney film she could, several times, she had accepted the hand that fate had given her. She was still scared of course, terrified in fact but she was also oddly excited.

Up until approximately five days ago she hadn't given any thought to the father. She hadn't even considered telling him until her wise, wonderful and completely reckless Gran (she still blaimed her), had asked how he had reacted. Two hours of conversation later, which included making Molly guilty over her perfect father, whilst of course simultaneously insulting her mother, she became convinced that he deserved to know. It was probably the multiple references to Oedipus from her dearly morbid grandmother that ultimately sealed the deal.

Which brings a new dilemma, how do you tell someone that one night of fun now means a lifetime responsibility ? Molly had planned a speech along the lines of :

_Hello, I'm Molly Hooper. We met a few weeks ago, we had a one night stand. As a result, I'm pregnant (leave pause) yes, this is very shocking. Well, I have decided to keep it, and you can be as involved or not involved as you want.  
__Sounds good,_ she thought. _Maybe I should shorten it, consider adding an apology and definitely don't refer to the baby as 'it'._

If he wanted to be involved, excellent, if not she would manage. Having grown up in a one parent household, she knew it would be demanding but possible. If she were being completely honest with herself, she was expecting him to shut the door in her face and refuse to be any part of her or her child's life. She didn't see that as being pessimistic, but rather prepared. If you expect the worst from people you're fairly disappointed and occasionally surprised. Molly was nothing if practical.

"Ah, off to see him then?" The cabbie asked, bringing her out of her deep concentration

"S-sorry?" She stuttered

"That man in Baker Street, I must drive half a dozen people every week going to visit him."

"Oh, i'm sorry, i'm not too sure who you are talking about." Molly replied, assuming the cabbie was getting confused with someone else.

"Tall fella', dark hair, funny looking if you ask me-" the description was unsettling familiar for Molly- "odd name, what is it ? Oh, that's going to bug me of the rest of the day."

The cabbie began to tap his wheel in the hope it would trigger something.

"Sh-Sh- Sheryl-uh Sherylot Holmes, something like that."

There was no denying who the driver was thinking of.

"You quite young to be one of is clients mind you."

Her palms became sweaty as millions of thoughts spun round her head. Her mind was split between the hopeful and the logical.

Clients? _Perhaps he's an accountant._ From his own home? _Odd, but not unheard of! He might even be a doctor._ Yes, because we are just that lucky. _Well we might be._ Knowing our luck he's probably a prostitute.

"Must be some kind of pro, his clients always leave looking relieved." The cabbie leered.

_Oh god._ He's a prostitute. _Not necessarily, being relieved doesn't always mean sexually. He could be a masseur._

Unaware of the war going on within his passenger the driver continued.

"This one time, I drove this woman to his house. She was all posh looking, looked like she had a stick up her arse, you know the type. Anyway, this woman was in there for 20 minutes max. I tell you he must be some kind of a miracle worker , she left ever so happy, even gave me a tip." He laughed.

Prostitute. _Masseur.  
_  
Realizing his passenger hadn't spoken for a while , he sought her out in his rear view mirror.

"There's no need to be embarrassed love, he assured im no stranger to paid services myself. Nothing to be ashamed of."

He is a prostitute. _Maybe he's high end._

Unsure of how to respond , she muttered a quick thanks and stared at the floor, avoiding eye contact. Head down and red faced, Molly stayed quiet for the remainder of the ride until he pulled over. Before he could say anything, Molly shoved the money into his hand and practically ran from the taxi, squeaking a 'keep the change' on her way out.

Stopping in front of a door, she looked up to find a sign declaring it to be '221b' and her stomach unexpectedly lurched. Her morning hadn't gone quite to plan so far, but she was determined to complete her mission, and be done with it as soon as possible. Chances are if he was indeed a prostitute then he might have been in this situation before, and that thought was a little reassuring. Whilst his profession and the consequences it might lead to was swirling around her mind, Molly decided that no judgments should be made until she had actually spoken to the man in question. Whatever the outcome she could make it work, she was sure of it. And with that thought she stepped forward and knocked three times in a strong succession.

She could hear the shuffling of locks before the door was opened and revealed a small old lady.

"Hello." She greeted warmly."Can I help you ?"

"Um- I'm looking for Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes." Molly replied, slightly taken back by the unexpected woman.

"Ah, one of his clients then? No need to look so panicked, he's very good. Helped me a couple times." The woman began to usher Molly inside and closed the door behind her.

"Oh, um, that's nice." Molly tried to look as nonchalant as possible but she knew by the unusually high tone of her voice she was failing miserably. Once inside she began to recognise the place.

She had tripped on the small step by the door but he grabbed her hand before she could fall. She hung her coat up on the coat rack in the corner after watching him do the same, she remembered just how nervous she was. He must have known because at that moment he came over and kissed her firmly, then stepped back and began to walk upstairs, giving her the option to leave. Once at the top of the stairs he turned back to face her and waited to see her decision. Questions were filling her head, her doubts and insecurities came flooding in and yet she began to walk upstairs.

"Have you met him before ?" The question cut through Molly's memories before they could become less pg.

"Yes. Once a little while ago."

"I don't need to warn you then." The elderly lady chuckled.

"No, I'm fairly sure I know what I'm getting myself into." Molly assured, assuming that this was about the whole 'prostitute' situation.

"Oh, good. The amount of people I get running out in tears, I mean honestly he could be a bit nicer. But don't worry, I'm sure you've heard it all before. Now, Sherlocks out at the moment, but John's upstairs, if you want to wait there."

"Wait, people cry?" Molly frowned in confusion."Why do people cry? What does he do to them?" Molly was rambling in panic.

"Nothing terrible, he just doesn't always understand he's hurting them. Don't worry dear, I'm sure you'll do fine. Especially if you've met him before." The woman began to pat Molly on the shoulder, despite the fact that Molly wasn't one for human contact, it was comforting.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. It'll all be fine. I'm just gunna go sit with this John guy and wait. Wait, whose John?"

"John lives with sherlock. Has done for the past few years or so. Didn't Sherlock mention him?"

"No, I don't remember him coming up in conversation. Not that we spoke much."

Is he gay? _They might just be friends._ He's probably gay.

"Mrs. Turner next door's got married ones."

"That's nice."

Congratulations we're pregnant with a gay prostitute's baby.

"I think I should probably wait upstairs. I don't want to take anymore of your time." Molly said remarkably calm.

"Oh, ok. I'm sure Sherlock will be any minute now. Just go straight up." The woman gestured towards the stairs.

"Thanks."

Molly turned and walked the stairs as fast as humanly possible. All she wanted to do was go back to bed and pretend like none of this had happened. She was, for the second time that day faced with another door, so just like last time she knocked three times although a little less strong than she had previously. After a few seconds the door was opened by a man Molly assumed to be John.

"Hi, I'm here to see Sherlock." She plastered on a quick smile.

"Oh, of course. Come in, he should be back any moment." He opened the door wider and Molly entered the flat.

She strategically sat in the chair closest to the door and decided to run through the speech one more time in her head. Whilst John was moving books, newspapers and other items from counter to table and vise versa, pointlessly attempting to clean the place. The silence was relatively uncomfortable but with what Molly had gone through today she barely even noticed.

John looked at the woman who had disrupted his quiet afternoon alone. She was young, pretty and didn't look like the usual 'odd balls' that have cases for Sherlock. She did have the face though, the 'oh, god, what is he going to say about my mum/dad/sibling/husband etc...' face, it consisted of little eye contact, occasion twitching and general nervousness. John guessed that this was a run in the mill cheating husband case, the clients had been almost always right about their partners, when you know you know, you just don't want to believe it. Feeling sorry for the clearly anxious woman John decided to break the ice a little.

"Would you like a cup of tea, or maybe coffee ?" It wasn't until John had offered that Molly realised she was thirsty, a day of surprises can do that to a person.

"Just water would be good, thanks."

It was obvious by his manner that John was a nice man. He was respectful yet warm and an undoubtedly soothing presence. It was as he shuffled towards the kitchen that Molly realised if the information she had received from the lady downstairs was in fact true, then not only was she pregnant with a gay prostitute, but she was pregnant with a gay prostitute who was in a relationship, making her a mistress. It was at that point she lost all control she had over her emotions and burst out into tears.

John returned from the kitchen about to hand her the drink when he noticed she was sobbing into her hands. He was never good with crying girls, it wasn't the actual crying her had a problem with, it was the snot, faces and weird voice that went along with it. He wanted to go back into the kitchen but the doctor in him screamed in protest, which is how he found himself rubbing the back of a crying stranger at 3 o'clock on a Tuesday afternoon. He tried to give words of encouragement but this was incredibly hard considering he had no idea what was wrong with her. He knew she was trying to give responses but it just came out like a choking, gurgling noise that was impossible to understand. She began to calm down after a little while and quieted down to an occasional whine and shake, but John stayed put and still offered a statement like 'everything's going to be fine'. Even though she knew he had no evidence to base this on, it did help, she thought she might as well enjoy his company before he hated her for sleeping with his boyfriend. They fell into a rhythm of positive slogans and small hiccups of tears, this was how Sherlock had found them.

"John, Lestrade has nothing, absolutely noth-" sherlock stopped noticing someone else in the room. At the sound of his voice Molly jumped away from John and wiped away her tears in an attempt to compose herself.

"Ah, done with Mary then? Not that I blame you, she was quite dull. Although this one is a bit... _Emotional_." Sherlock walked straight passed towards the kitchen deciding that the scene in the living room was uninteresting.

"Mary's not dull! We are still together, we're doing great, amazing! She-" John pointed towards Molly " is here to see you actually." John was always amazed at how easily sherlock can irritate him, Sherlock was suddenly intrigued at the prospect of a new case, and Molly was lost.

"Please be a nine, I'd even settle for an eight." Sherlock muttered towards the ceiling before walking back, seeking her out. Molly slightly squirmed in her chair as she looked at Sherlock _looking_ at her. Perhaps 'looking' wasn't the right word, it was like he was undressing her, not in a sexual way but rather undressing _her_, it was though he could 'see' her thoughts. It was quite unsettling.

Then he looked into her eyes and she saw it, the spark of recognition flash in his pupils and his whole body shifted. His stance went from an almost attacking position to a defensive one in less than a second. His face changed from relatively calm, verging on excitement, to cold and guarded.

Sherlock turned to face John.

"I think you should leave, I can handle it from here." His tone was flat.

"I think I should stay, look Sherlock, she's clearly upset and you're not the best in these kind of situations."

"Go." It was a harsh command, but there was no malice behind it. John liked to think he knew Sherlock better than most and he knew that this was odd behavior, even for the sociopath in question. It was clear that there was more to this that what he had initially assumed. He decided to trust Sherlock, and go visit his girlfriend.

Once John had left, Sherlock sat down in his favourite chair opposite Molly.

"There's no need to be so sad Molly, you didn't give me an STD. It must have been 'transmitted' after our encounter. You've clearly been busy these past few weeks." Molly stared at him unsure of what to say, and she was reminded once again that today really, really hadn't gone to plan.

"I-I I'm not sure what's going on."

"It's simple, you've contracted a sexually transmitted disease, therefore you are working backwards to discover where it originated from. Must be serious." Sherlock picked up his violin and started plucking random strings absentmindedly. "You arrived almost certain that you gave it to me, when the thought occurred that it might be the other way around. You assumed that my profession was along the lines of prostitution based on the gossip of various taxi drivers around this area, you really shouldn't trust them."

"How-" Molly began.

"If you'd walked your shoes would be dirtier, if you'd taken the tube you would have arrived either ten minutes earlier or ten minutes late according to the train schedule on a Tuesday afternoon, therefore a cab it was. The paper cut on your right thumb, it was caused by a bank note, when you shoved it towards the driver as you were running out of the car. The notion that I gave you the disease was upsetting but not enough to make you cry, however the idea that not only did I give you a disease but I used you as a mistress would most likely sent you into a frenzy of despair hence all the crying. Just to clarify I'm a consulting detective not a prostitute. And John would gladly attest to the fact that we a just roommates despite what Ms. Hudson believes. Oh, and I don't have an STD. All in all it was a wasted trip." After his long speech, Sherlock looked down at his violin believing his work to be done.

Molly had felt a lot of things today, mainly shock and confusion, but this was the first time she felt angry. Here sat this man, this pompous arse really, telling her she had an STD, barely letting her get a word in edgeways, and finally dismissing her. Which is why she responded a little harsher than she intended.

"I do not have an STD."

He glanced up from his beloved instrument and looked at her once again.

"No, you don't. You clearly haven't had any more sexual partners since me, and even that was out of character." He spoke so fast and annoyed at his own mistake that Molly could only just understand what he was saying. Sherlocks mind was moving so fast he could barely get the words out before the next thought popped into his head. He began picking the strings even louder as he rambled on and on.

"The reason that you're here is clearly about that night though as you didn't know my occupation therefore it cannot be a case. But you don't have an STD, which was the most logical assumption from the data, this means that there is only one real possibility left. You're pregnant." Silence. Sherlock lowered his violin to the ground, tilted his head and repeated slowly-

"You're pregnant."

* * *

AN/ massive thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter.

**Icebabe59 / crooney83/ Florence / apedarling and itmonster20**

You guys are the reason I continued :D

Hopefully see you next Friday.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer - I do not own Sherlock, I am merely borrowing the characters.

AN/ I apologise for all spelling and grammar mistakes. Thank you's are at the bottom. Enjoy :) 

* * *

"You're pregnant."

There it was, the reason she'd had come, out in the open. It's weird really, she planned how she was going to say, even down to the tone. She had practiced in front of the mirror before she arrived, practiced in the cab on the way here, she had practiced over and over again but it hadn't gone how she had envisioned, not even slightly, but all that didn't matter once she was reminded why she was here. It was because she was pregnant.

She watched his eyes glaze over and eventually close as he leaned back and placed his hands underneath his chin, quite obviously 'shutting down'. Molly began to read the collection of books piled on top of each other in the corner Not sure what else to do. She glanced down at her watch and saw the hands tick by. One second , two seconds, three second. She looked back up at the books. She read each title and author a few times, even sorted them out alphabetically in her mind , she looked down at her watch again. She worked out that 7 minutes 47 seconds had passed, probably 48 by now. Almost eight minutes in complete silence and it was killing her inside.

"We used protection." His voice was emotionless but Molly could have kissed him for finally saying something. She had expected this argument, finally something she had prepared for.

"Yeah, but condoms aren't 100% I guess. If you factor in all the things that could make them pointless, they're not that good. I really wasn't expecting anything sexual to happen that night so I didn't anything. I haven't been on anything for years, I ..." Molly awkwardly trailed off once she realised he wasn't listening to a word she was saying.

Perhaps she had imagined it, no one would blame her after the day she had had. He was in the same position, hadn't even moved an inch. She watched him, eyebrows drawn in concentration. He didn't even look like he was breathing.

"You're keeping it."

She hesitated in answering this time.

"Y-yes. I am."

He still wasn't listening.

Gently coughing Molly realised she was till thirsty, and that John had never actually gotten her a drink. She saw what she presumed to be her glass of water sitting on the counter, she started to stand in order to grab it when, at the corner of her eye, Sherlock twitched. She sank back down in her seat.

She began to bang her lips together gently, enjoying the satisfying popping sound it made. At least something was distracting her. She continued, and started to sway her head to a rhythm she had created with her lips. Forgetting where she was, she started to sway her shoulders slightly which grew the more she got into it until she was practically dancing to this random song she had started. She even added random clicks for emphasis. Then he twitched again, and she suddenly was brought back down to Earth, horribly uncomfortable, soul destroyingly awkward, and newly embarrassing Earth.

She had to get out of there before she made even more of a fool of herself. She couldn't just up and leave without an explanation but she had no real reason to go home. The best excuse she could think of was feeding her cat, second was watering the plants. Both were exceptionally weak. She looked down at her watch a final time and saw that it had been a total of 13 minutes and 12 seconds of vertical silence. She was just going to use one of those excuses and run away. She doubted he would even move.

"I should really get going, this has taken far longer than I thought it would and I've got to go feed my plants, urmm, I mean water my cat. Oh, no, I mean the other way around." Molly giggled in a pitch far higher than she intended.

"So, yeah, I'm going." She stood in front of him hoping for a reaction, when she saw none she made her way towards the door.

"Wait!" She turned, he now sat hands grasped on the arm rests wide awake.

"I- I, you can't go." Sherlock sighed in frustration. "I'm sorry, I know I'm dealing with this normally. It's just- i- you can't just go." He ran his hands through his hair whilst he leaned forward, pleading with her.

"Okay." She replied sincerely.

He stood and jumped around the multiple desks and sides near his chair. He vertically sprinted towards her and shoved a small rectangular card in her hands. It was a business card that John had insisted he make for his clients, so they could always reach him. Sherlock had thought it was a daft idea, completely useless to his life, but then again he never saw this coming.

"It's my number, or a number you can reach me by. Text me. We can meet, talk properly. Just give me some time. Please."

"I promise." Molly nodded, placing the card in her coat pocket something out the creases with her thumb.

"You should probably go feed your plants." His infamous side smirk had returned, which was only fitting as it was part of the reason they were in this mess.

Molly laughed, genuinely laughed and walked out of the apartment feeling peace for the first time in weeks.

She would never admit it, not even to herself but she was relieved he hadn't slammed the door in her face. 

* * *

She hadn't heard much from Sherlock the past few weeks. The occasional text arranging to meet, then an almost immediate cancellation. It was nice that he was at least trying.

Her only complaint was that each time she would get carried away and book an extra hour off, very short notice. So far, over the past few weeks she has been to one dentist appointment, two optician appointments and looking after a very sick grandmother. There are only so many times you can lie to your new boss before it looks suspicious and she needed to get in his good books before she dropped the 'baby bomb' on him.

Working in a high tech, shiny new lab, being observed by one of the top pathologists in the world, all in the centre of London, it was her dream job. And that was why she hadn't told her boss she was pregnant. Mike Stamford was nice, but he was still her boss and she doubted that he would be too pleased that his brand new pathologist was expecting. He had apparently never hired someone straight from med-school but he read her recommendation and her dissertation and just had to have her.

She had heard that doctors tended to hire 'newbies' to do the worst jobs, practically making them into personal assistants but mike was surprisingly different. Her days were full of slicing and dicing into corpses, it was truly amazing. He was a bit odd at times though, sometimes he would randomly ask for a coffee. It wasn't the asking for a coffee that she found odd, it was the yelling it at her and telling her that the only decent coffee in this place was on the top floor, which took about 20 minutes to get and come back. But anything she could do to sweeten him up before she told him she was going to be leaving for a while, she would do with a big smile across her face.

She was cutting into her second corpse of the day when her phone seemed to have an onslaught of messages. Intrigued she looked down and read-

Can you come to 221B today. SH

In one hour. SH

Actually as soon as you can would be beneficial to me. SH

Now preferably. SH

I'm at work, I can take a lunch break in a little while. Molly

I have tea, decaffeinated of course. SH

I can't leave yet. I can be at yours in just over an hour. Molly

I have biscuits. SH

I don't think you're understanding that I have a job. Molly

They have jam in them. I have been reliably informed that they taste pleasant. SH

Ok, fine. I'll come round yours, it'll take me about 10 minutes. Molly

Good. Perhaps you shouldn't use a taxi this time. SH

Make that 20 minutes. Molly

Molly sighed, it looked like her cat was suddenly sick. 

* * *

18 minutes later and she was walking up the steps of Sherlock's apartment. She walked inside after being informed to come right up, and saw him sitting in clearly his favourite seat.

"Hi" she greeted slightly out of breath and sat down in the chair opposite him. She shrugged off her coat and pretended that she didn't feel a strong sense of deja-vu.

"Hello."

Determined to not sit in silence for any longer than needed, she got straight to the point.

"So, why am I here ?"

He raised his eyebrow in answer.

"Well I know why I'm here, I'm just wondering why I'm here now. What did you want to talk about? I mean, I'm guessing it's about the baby, but what did you want to talk about specifically?" She rambled.

"My involvement."

She simply nodded in response, not wanting to pressure him.

"I can provide financially, but I would like more contact if you will permit it."

"Yes, of course. I would like you to be involved. That's why I told you, I wasn't looking for money."

"Good." He seemed relieved, at least to her.

"How do you want to make this work ?"

"I was thinking we should probably get to know each other first. Perhaps we could set up a regular time and meeting place." He smiled a bit forced.

"Umm, sure. How's, Thursday evenings ?"

"I-" He hesitated "that's perfect." His smile had gotten bigger for emphasis, although he was starting to look creepy.

"Are you certain ? Because you don't seem too thrilled." Molly chuckled.

"Actually, could we change to Wednesday evenings ?" Sherlock suggested cautiously.

"That's fine. Do you want to meet here ?"

"That sounds acceptable, unless you wanted to meet at your apartment..."

"Here is fine. Are you ok ? You're acting different to how I remember."

"I'm fine." The creepy smile was back full force.

"Look, You're clearly uncomfortable, I didn't want to force you into anything and if you want to leave-"

"No! I am uncomfortable, but not because I don't want to be involved." He clarified.

"Oh?"

"It's just- I have been told on multiple occasions that I'm not a very good 'people person'. So I asked for advice on this situation and they told me that you should always be nice to pregnant women."

Molly laughed.

"You should always be nice to pregnant women, but you can have an opinion too. I promise I don't bite."

"That's not how I remember it." Sherlock grinned as Molly turned bright red.

"Who did you ask ?" Molly practically yelled in hope of changing the subject.

"A shop assistant in Tesco's, I believe his name was David."

"Wait, you asked a shop assistant 'how should I treat pregnant women ?'"

"Technically I asked 'what is a suitable snack for a woman whom you got pregnant ?' He added the information about 'being nice' on his own."

With this bizarre information turning in here head, Molly thought the best question to ask was-

"What did he say? Which snack ?"

"Biscuits." He answered surprised she didn't remember the text from earlier.

"Good choice. Where are they by the way? I came here with the promise of tea and biscuits and I seem to have neither."

"They are both in the kitchen, help yourself." Molly smiled, at least he was more himself around her now.

Just as she was about to stand, the door behind her opened. John came in holding presumably heavy cardboard boxes. It was strange that neither occupant of the room had heard him rattle his way upstairs, as all of Mary's trinkets bounced off each other. John walked in muttering about 'bloody women' and their 'pointless, heavy, photo frames', he sat the box down on the floor and realised that he interrupted something.

"Oh, sorry. Didn't know Sherlock was having a 'meeting'. I won't stay for long." John quickly smiled as he pushed the box further into the apartment.

"I-" Molly started but was quickly cut short by Sherlock.

"She's not a case. Molly-John, John-Molly." He gestured appropriately between the pair. "I believe you've met before."

"Yeah, we have. Hi, again." John realised he knew the woman.

"Hi, I'm really sorry about all the crying before. I'm usually like that, I was just having a really strange day."

"It's fine, I barely remember it, trust me I'm a doctor, I've seen much worse." Remembering the odd tension between the pair the last time he saw them he could help but ask-

"What brings you here then?"

"I got her pregnant."

"Oh, congratulations." John said as a generic response to the phrase, it took him a few seconds to fully process what had actually been said. "Wait- what, I'm sorry did you just say you got someone pregnant? You? I- but you-is this a joke?" John stumbled obviously dazed. He stood with the same look of confusion etched across his face. Suddenly a distinctive female voice called out from behind-

"Uh, John, do you want to move out of the doorway 'hun ?'.

John moved aside revealing a small blonde woman also carrying cardboard boxes. She set them down on top of John's and looked around the room. Sensing the weird atmosphere she became slightly on edge.

"Well, I seem to have missed something important." She joked.

"Sherlock's got someone pregnant." John said turning to face Mary.

"Who?" Mary replied in shock.

"Me." Molly supplied quietly.

"Oh, hello. Congratulations, I guess. I'm Mary."

"Thanks, I'm Molly."

The four of them looked around unsure what to do, the women were smiling, trying to seem less awkward, John was still in a state of shock and Sherlock was cataloguing everyone's responses.

"I'm a bit peckish, not sure about you guys. Does anyone want to order some food ?" Mary broke the quiet and not so discretely elbowed John.

"That's a great idea." John said stoically.

"You should stay too, we can order pizza, everyone like pizza." Mary said to Molly. Not feeling like she had much of a choice Molly agreed smiling. Mary turned and gave a significant look to John.

"Sherlock, perhaps you should help me find the menus from the kitchen."

"I'm sure you have it covered John, I doubt you need my help."

"You never know, it might be somewhere high up, I might need your freakishly long arms to help me."

Molly watched on, thinking they were very intense about this menu business.

"Fine." Sherlock conceded and stood, walking towards the kitchen.

Mary plonked herself down next to Molly.

"I know this is way too personal, but I just have to know. Sherlock- is he good in bed?" Taken back by the question Molly's eyes widened as her cheeks light up.

"He's that good!" Mary laughed.

John looked on, satisfied that Mary was distracting Molly, he turned towards Sherlock.

"Sher-"

"Don't." He'd dismissed. "I know what you're going to say, first you'll quiz me on how I'm moving forward from here, then regardless of my answer you'll disagree."

"Well what are you doing ?"

"I'm going to be involved." John groaned and started to speak when Sherlock beat him to it.

"I know, I know, I'm immature, selfish, and irresponsible. I can't possibly look after a child." He mocked.

"They're valid concerns Sherlock!"

"Would you rather I bugger off and leave her to do it all."

"No, I just don't think filling her with false expectations is fair either."

"I know what I'm getting myself into!" He replied, frustrated.

"No you don't! You have no idea what you're getting yourself into and that's the problem. This isn't something you can just do on a whim because you're bored. This isn't a case." John fumed.

That apparently was the final straw for Sherlock as he waltzed out the kitchen past the two women nattering on the sofa and into the streets without another word.

Once John had calmed down he returned to the living room and sat down across from Mary.

"What did you say?" She demanded. John shrugged sheepishly.

Mary was glaring at John, John was rubbing his hands over his face in exhaustion and Molly was just watching it all unfold. Molly decided to break the tension that was suffocating the room by sharing a funny little anecdote she thought they might enjoy.

"I thought Sherlock was a gay prostitute." 

* * *

AN/ I hope you liked chapter three, I'm not too sure how I feel about it to be honest, but I am looking forward to chapter four :)

The number of responses I got for the last chapter was overwhelming. A huge thank you to :

**LouLouBear213 / Rocking the Redhead / Icebabe59 / blairbearwaldorf / Potix / Kathmak / crooney83 / AJP910 / Florence / Nay / lavanyalabelle / Renaissancebooklover108 / Angela Robin / and patemalah21 :D**

I honestly cannot thank you enough.

Hopefully, see you next Friday :)


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer - I do not own Sherlock, I am merely borrowing the characters.

AN/ I apologise for all spelling and grammar mistakes. Thank you's are at the bottom. Enjoy :)

* * *

After the brief meeting at 221b a month prior, it became almost routine that Molly would visit Baker Street every Wednesday for tea and biscuits. Often she would be greeted by Mrs Hudson downstairs who would offer advice and give her a variety of different snacks and hot dinners. Molly would then be let in by John, who would inquire about her health before shooting off to Mary's, deciding that the future parents should have the flat to themselves, finally leaving Sherlock and Molly alone. Mostly they would talk about the pregnancy never the baby, but the pregnancy, sherlock would ask clinical questions and Molly would answer with a testable precision, it was civil. On the day following the fourth Wednesday, their relationship shifted and the routine began to change.

Molly woke to the pained beep of her alarm, dressed, and ate the same breakfast she had every Thursday since she had begun working at Saint Bart's. Arriving on time she greeted Mike and began to plan her day of cutting cadavers. Never having the best sense of judgement, she felt as though today was going to be a good day, which is why she happily accepted Mike's rather loud request for a coffee just as she had finished cutting into Mr Lindon. She had even promised to get it from the top floor with one and a half sugars just as he'd ordered. Taking a leisurely stroll up the stairs she began to reflect on how well things were going for her. The whole pregnancy thing was going well, she had fairly regular conversations with the father, appointments had been booked with the local hospital that wasn't Bart's, morning sickness had come and gone within a week, and she was building up a relationship with her boss so he wouldn't fire her when she told him. Life was good.

Coffee in hand she sprung the lab doors open a short time later. Walking into a complete silence, she saw four male figures standing around her desk. Varying in just about every aspect, including current emotion she looked around the room in question. Firstly, she noticed Mike, the shortest and chubbiest of the gang who was sporting a rather confused look. Next she saw the silver fox that was Greg Lestrade, although only meeting him briefly she was sure he was a professional man, making the bright, childish grin spread across his face look peculiar. Turning still she recognised the short, sandy haired man as John Watson, despite the fact that he was looking down to avoid her gaze, which meant the fourth and final man could only be one person.

"Sherlock?" She knew he was some kind of detective, but she wasn't sure why he was here, at her desk.

"Wait, you two know each other?" She heard Greg question in the background. She was too occupied looking at Sherlock's expression. It was the same look her Gran had given her when she accidentally told her Santa Claus wasn't real. It was guilt. Before she could think about the meaning behind this, Mike on the far left of her vision began to speak in a stern tone she had never heard him use before.

"Dr Hooper, are you pregnant?"

She turned back to Sherlock with what only can be described as fire in her eyes.

"What did you do?"

* * *

(Sherlock's POV)

Sherlock was woken by the simple beep of his ring tone informing him that a third victim had been found and he jumped out of bed finding a new spring in his step. The text was simple and gave little away, but if he had guessed correctly this one would be far more gruesome and even better it was a surprise. Perhaps the killer had gotten bored, he broke his own timeline meaning that he was acting out of character meaning he had might have made a mistake meaning Sherlock was undoubtedly going to beat him. He yelled a quick update to John whilst wrapping his scarf around his neck. Today was going to be a great day, he could feel it.

The killer was dumber than he'd assumed, the case went from an 8 to a 3 in the space of ten minutes. He was outraged, and once again hated the human race for being fickle and allowing their emotions to take over, if the killer hadn't lost his temper with the third victim, the murder would have been much more efficient and Sherlock would have had a better case to work on.

Sherlock slid into the back of a taxi followed by John whilst Lestrade sat in the chair opposite. After one stop at Bart's he would confirm the killer to be a Mr Irvin Hargrave, then be on his way. He was trying to create a better ending to the now disappointing case, but the constant patter of Greg hitting the buttons on his phone was far too distracting.

"Do you need to text someone this very second? I doubt that Anderson needing you to sing him a lullaby is of the highest importance."

John sighed, he knew it was coming after watching the great big man child berate the crime scene workers and yet it still managed to anger him.

"Actually, I'm not texting Anderson. I happen to be informing Mike that we are on our way so he can get the bodies ready." Greg continued to stare at his phone.

"Oh, it's to get the bodies ready? Here I thought it was to warn him so he can distract the new pathologist, how silly of me." His voice, completely monotone, managed to make Lestrade pause his actions mid word.

"Well, can you blame him? The last doctor quit three days after meeting you."

"He was utterly useless. I did Dr Stamford a favour."

"A favour? Mike was on holiday, and it was his brother-in-law. He had to come back early and apologise to his wife all because you had to show off."

"I do not show off! I point out the truth, and he was an utterly useless doctor."

"Sherlock-"and here came the speech Sherlock was waiting for, John to calm the mad detective. After their argument a month ago, the subject was never brought up again. John was torn between being a good friend and being a good person, whilst Sherlock was hurt and angered that he was hurt. Neither knew how to talk about it or resolve the issue, so instead they took their frustrations out in other ways. For John it was taking an extra few minutes to get ready before going out for a case or forgetting to buy some new nicotine patches, for Sherlock it was being a little bit less considerate when playing the violin early in the morning or to steal his credit card and use it to buy nicotine patches. "- What you did to that doctor was unnecessary and you know it. Maybe if you were polite, happy and kind, doctors wouldn't quit and mike would be a lot happier. He might even give you extra limbs for experiments if you're really, really good."

"I'm not a child John, I can be nice to people."

"Really? It's just previous experience is showing me otherwise."

Sherlock knew what John was trying to do, he was trying to get him angry and competitive so Sherlock would have no choice but to be nice if he wanted to prove John wrong. Sherlock wasn't sure that he wanted to play.

"Sherlock please, I'm not sure if mikes got the text. I am begging you do not make this one quit, mike really likes her and says she is an amazing doctor-"Sherlock stopped listening to Lestrade in realisation.

This wasn't about mike or Lestrade or new doctors or any of them, Sherlock now realised it was about him. John wasn't tricking him into playing nice, he was trying to talk about 'situation baby' without talking about 'situation baby'. If Sherlock could prove to be nice to a random doctor, then he would prove himself capable of having a child, according to John at least. Thinking the idea was utter nonsense, he was tempted to play along, even just to cater to John's whims, but the idea of proving his brilliance was far too tempting. He had decided that he was going to enter the lab meet the new doctor and get her fired, afterwards they will all mask in his glorious intelligence and congratulate him on his excellent talent. At the very least he would get some entertainment, which after the dismal case he had today, he believed he truly deserved.

* * *

Mind made, Sherlock walked into Bart's with a new purpose. They walked into the lab which was only occupied by Mike, just as Sherlock had suspected, if his calculations were correct the new doctor would be back in the next ten minutes. Ignoring the greeting and general chit-chat that Sherlock deemed an irrelevant waste of oxygen and brain matter, he stopped over to the mystery woman's desk.

"Sherlock, what are you doing?" Mike laughed in a failed attempt to hide his nerves.

"Learning about the new doctor, she's worked here for almost two months now, I think I should really get to meet her." Sherlock's voice dripped in false pleasantry.

"Oh that's really not necessary-"

"Nonsense, I'm happy to do it. I love meeting new people. But first, I should probably get a feel for her personality, don't want to say the wrong thing and scare her off now do I?" Must to the misery of everyone else in the room, Sherlock moved over to her set of drawers and began to open them one by one. Although no one wanted to witness, they all moved closer drawn in by the cruelty that was coming this poor woman's way.

In the first drawer there were a few pens, a diary containing personal numbers and an orange. Sherlock could only see that she was organised, thin, right handed, non smoker with no pets or siblings and was allergic to nuts. None of these traits were good enough for a permanent termination of her contract although a more cynical part of his mind considered during the allergy to his advantage. The second drawer was almost empty, and primarily featured more stationary. Sherlock briefly felt panicked, as the last and final draw followed a similar pattern with the only variation being herbal tea and some more snacks. He all but slammed the drawer shut as mike breathed out a sigh, as his protégé seemed to have passed the test.

"I can't tell anything from her drawers I'll just have to meet her in person." Just as he had finished that sentence his mind flashed the answer right in front of him. The third drawer contained Ginger tea and crackers, a common home remedy for morning sickness. Now all he had to do was get Mike angry enough that he would justify firing her.

"She seems organised and efficient, overall a good hire." Mike was practically beaming at Sherlock's observation.

"One slight problem though."

As Sherlock was beginning to get ready to get this stranger fired, John noticed a coat in the corner of the room that looked familiar.

"Well, there's the replacement issue. That's never easy."

Looking closer John noticed that not only did the coat match Molly Hoopers, the scarf that was with it also did.

"Then there is the whole payment problem"

As Sherlock was building up to his big reveal, John's mind was slowly putting pieces of the puzzle together, which only became complete when he looked in the first drawer and noticed that the contact diary had an initial engraved on the bottom right hand corner. MH.

"Sherlock. Sherlock, you should stop talking now."

"Absolutely not, I think as Mike's friend I should inform him that his new hire is keeping a secret. A secret that could interfere with Mike's early retirement plans."

"Sherlock, I'm being serious. Stop talking."

"Your new doctor happens to be pregnant, second trimester at least." Grinning from ear to ear Sherlock turned to face John in victory.

Whilst Mike was pondering the repercussions of this news and Greg was moaning about the fact that Sherlock always has to show off, the man in question was staring at the diary now in John's hand. It wasn't the initials on the diary, or the coat, or the scarf that finally made it click who the new doctor was, in the end it was John's face, telling him that was a bit not good.

"I'm wrong." Sherlock turned to face Mike.

"I'm completely wrong, she's not pregnant. I'm wrong."

"Bloody hell, is anyone recording this? " Lestrade joked.

"She's a brilliant doctor who is definitely not pregnant, if anything she should get a raise, maybe even a promotion." He was desperately trying to undo what he said, but it was clear from Mike's silence that the damage was done.

Barely a second after he had stopped speaking Molly walked in.

* * *

"Sherlock?"

"Wait, they know each other?"

"Doctor Hooper are you pregnant?

The next minute or so was a complete blur for Sherlock, he knew that at some point Molly spoke to him enraged, and he was sure Mike spoke, but it wasn't until Molly started crying that he started paying attention.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't know how to tell you. I swear I didn't know when I got the job-"tears started leaking, and began to trail down her face.

"It's not-I'm not, I still would have liked to have been told." Mike was visibly becoming more uncomfortable.

"I know, it-s-s just, I thought you might have fired me."

"I think we should get going, we can come and see Mr Lindon tomorrow." Lestrade started to slowly back away.

"I promise I won't fire you, please calm down."

"O-okay." Molly was at this point, wailing.

"Bye now, bu-bye" Lestrade was waving as he walked out of the lab door.

John nudged Sherlock who moved for the first time since Molly entered the room, in hope he would go and comfort her.

"Molly, you can come to Baker Street when your shift has finished." Sherlock turned grabbing John's sleeve before leaving the lab just as quick as Greg had before him.

John turned one last time, he looked on towards Mike in recognition and instantly empathised with the poor man, before he too left.

* * *

Once safely in the comfort of 221b Sherlock sat in his chair, picked up his violin and waited for the onslaught of tears that were sure to be coming his way. He remained in this position for three hours before Molly arrived. He heard her arrive and recognised the gentle patters as she walked up. He watched the door open as she entered and he waited still as she removed her coat and scarf before sitting opposite him. He would be lying if he claimed he was not nervous, crying people were never his speciality.

Molly smiled, much to Sherlock's surprise, as she leaned forward and took his violin.

"If you ever have any information about me that could result in me getting fired, do not tell my boss. I'm fairly sure he won't fall for the crying act again." She spoke low, but with an unbreakable confidence that slightly terrified Sherlock.

"Now, I'm going to go and have a shower because if I remember correctly, yours is amazing." Molly reluctantly gave him the violin back.

She stood and made her way to the bathroom when she remembered something.

"Before I forget, Mr Lindon and the third victim were not killed by the same people, different poisons, different entry wounds and it looks like one murder was a man and one was a woman, so you were wrong. Oh, Hello John." Molly smiled at John before continuing her way to the shower.

"I like her." John said having thoroughly enjoyed the last few minutes.

Sherlock wanted to turn and berate him for his invasion of privacy or having fun at Sherlock's expense or taking too long to get ready this morning, but he couldn't stop himself from watching the space that was just occupied by a small pathologist.

* * *

AN/ I'm really sorry about not updating for a month, life got ahead of me. Unfortunately I can't promise to update every week but I solemnly swear that I will update at least once a month :)

Also its my one year anniversary since I started writing fanfiction which is why I had to write today! Well that and its SHERLOCK DAY ! Although I have a bad feeling about sherlolly, I don't know why I just think its not going to fun for anyone who ships some form of Sherlock love...

Most importantly, a big, BIG, thanks to those who reviewed that last chapter-

**Potix / Rocking the Redhead / apedarling / AJP910 / Bella Coure / Icebabe59 / Guest / lavanyalabelle / Kathmak / Jasmine / Renaissancebooklover108 / patemalah / and NiceNipps :D**

I hope someone enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it, see you soon (hopefully) :)


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